Walk A Mile In My Shoes
by BagginsPotterPevensie
Summary: The Witch has a powerful influence on the Queen; no longer in the Dark Tower, Guinevere should be safe from Morgana's clutches. Should, but isn't. And neither is the King.


**A/N: Slightly AU. Guinevere has still been horrifically abused but Morgana's plan hasn't gone.._exactly_ to plan.**

She was shaking and shuddering, her body racked with grief and despair. The tears dripped down her cheeks as she gripped her dead brother's shoulders, willing it all to be part of a twisted nightmare rather than cruel reality.

Arthur was here, somewhere. She couldn't think straight with her head a swirling mass of emotions and a body that was growing limp ad lifeless in her lap.

"Guinevere."

Arthur's voice was so hoarse and quite she barely heard him; only when he cautiously reached out a hand and gently ghosted his fingers over her shaking arm did she glance up. There were tears in his eyes and she could see his facial expression struggling as he fought between breaking down at his friend and brother-in-law's death and his desire to comfort her; overcome with the relief of finding his beloved Guinevere after she hand been cruelly ripped from him.

He increased the pressure on her arm she gulped; the image of Arthur tormenting her in her hallucinations was seared into her mind and she wished she could banish it forevermore. Arthur slowly leant forward, gazing into Guinevere's deep brown eyes and letting out a deep, terrified breath he rested his forehead against hers, the lack of contact over the past few days had been too much to bear, for them both.

It felt as if they had been pressed against other for all eternity but in reality, it was a mere few seconds. Arthur turned his head slightly to the Knights and Merlin who were still standing in the doorway, expressions of utter shock and remorse etched on their faces while he kept a desperate grip on Guinevere's arm.

"Percival!" he barked out, more harshly than he intended to.

Percival started but after a nudge from Gwaine, he stumbled forward towards the three. Arthur didn't have to tell him what needed to be done; he immediately made his way to the Queen and leaned over to pick up his martyred friend, but Guinevere refused to let him.

"No!" she shrieked, punching away Percival's hands and gripping her brother tightly. "Get away!" "Guinevere, shh," Arthur offered quickly in a soothing tone, although he felt terror and panicked inside. "We have to get Elyan out of this _goddamn _place. He…he deserves a proper burial."

Guinevere stared at him for a moment, her eyes wide. Due to the numbness of her mind it was almost as if she didn't recognise her husband- she felt cut off from _everything_, from everything _good_, from the world and all the emotions of the human mind.

But Arthur's gaze bore into her; his blue eyes imploring, _understanding__, _everything she needed. She glanced down to see his hand had slid from her shaking arm to her thigh; his long, pale fingers splayed over the fabric of her dress. Lifting her own arm, she brought it to rest on Arthur's hand, feeling his body heat sear through her and clear her head slightly, like the refreshing feel of plunging into cool water on a hot summers' day.

Quickly, she glanced back up to Percival and nodded, before looking away again. Running her hands over Elyan's chiselled face one more time, she planted ghost of a kiss on his brow before Percival hoisted him up. As Guinevere looked at her brother one last time she noticed the tears in Percival's eyes and she felt sick to her stomach, remembering how the two were the best of friends.

Letting out a small sob, she bent her back and rested her head on her knees, the anguish too much atop the abuse she had suffered at Morgana's hand. Arthur was on her in an instant, his large body covering hers as he embraced her tightly, burying his face into her hair and neck and rubbing her back, wanting to give her everything he possibly could. He rocked her back and forth, his own tears starting to pour as Guinevere gripped his shoulders, afraid to let go.

After a few minutes her cries stopped and she remained with her heard resting on his heaving chest; heavy, muffled breaths being the only sound in the cold, dark room. Arthur held her tightly before pulling away slightly so she could see her broken face. Pushing back a lock of her curls, he placed his hands on her wet cheeks and gazing straight at her, he whispered "_Home_, Guinevere. We're going home."

She didn't utter a word, she merely held him tighter, if that was possible. He hoisted her up in his muscular arms, carrying her fragile form easily as he turned and strode through the door, Merlin and the Knights following.

**0o0o0o**

Word had been sent ahead to Camelot. The people had been preparing joyous celebrations for the return of their beloved Queen but upon hearing of the death of her brother, Sir Elyan, the mood of the kingdom changed drastically, as people exchanged garlands of colourful flora for flickering candles of a recent passing.

The Knights rode in first and as the people came out of their homes they saw their Queen and King arriving on one dark horse, and gasped at her state. Guinevere was sitting in front of Arthur- well, _slumped_ would be more accurate; she seemed to have no life within her. The King had his arms around her, his face brimming with concern and worry while Guinevere had been drained of all her bubbling energy; her face drawn and tight, her body rigid.

Mordred had been waiting; he rushed down the stairs, eager to see the Queen. He paused for a moment at her weakened state before rushing down determinedly as the Pendragons' horse finally came to a halt in the courtyard. He briefly glanced at Arthur but understandably, his usual beaming smile for the young lad had been buried by agony over his wife. The Kings eyes were dark and tired, his mouth set in a tight line but his expression changed to that of tenderness as he softly shook his wife's shoulder, alerting her to Mordred's presence.

She sat up slowly and then immediately slid down from the horse into Mordred's waiting arms. "M'Lady," he said respectfully as Arthur also jumped down. Guinevere looked straight at him and for a moment he thought she was going to say something to him but instead, she made a strange sound in her throat, looking faint, before she turned on her feet and retched violently; the sounds filling the large courtyard.

Immediately servants rushed forward as Guinevere gripped Arthur, fighting the urge to flop to the ground. Not caring about her state, he lifted her and carried her up the castle steps- "Cook, _move!"__-_up the winding staircases and down the long corridors until they finally reached their chambers. Kicking the door open, lightly laid her on their bed, before pushing her hair out of her face and soothing her brow, her breaths coming sharp and heavy.

He turned, and thankfully, Gaius was already bursting through the door, his arms laden with a tray dull of small liquid-filled bottles and some herbs, Merlin coming up behind him.

Arthur opened his mouth to speak but Gaius raised his hand and shook her head, "Sire, Merlin has already explained everything to me; you need not trouble yourself."

Relieved, Arthur nodded. He didn't think her hand it in him to go through the horrors of the day again. Instead he flopped bedside Guinevere on the bed, taking her hands in his as he fought back the tears that were surely coming. He had his Guinevere back with him but by her feverish state and gasping breaths she may as well still be with his pathetic excuse of a sister. Meanwhile, Guinevere had drifted off into a chaotic slumber, her body fighting against the poisonous thoughts coursing through her veins.


End file.
